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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676730">Even Now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerasines/pseuds/Kerasines'>Kerasines</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Found Family, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Haircuts, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Reminiscing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:56:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerasines/pseuds/Kerasines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t have time to brush my hair every day because I have to train. I had to smear it with dirt just to disguise myself, for weeks. It won’t stay up during training,” Ciri rattles off very reasonably, very convincingly. “And anyway, Lambert says you’re the only witcher with long hair, and that’s only because you’re too concerned with being pretty.”</p>
<p>At that, Geralt can’t hold back a bark of laughter. “Lambert’s just jealous because he’s going bald,” he says, grinning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Even Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/annablume/gifts">annablume</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This has been a long time coming! Let's call this a late Christmas present (and very late Halloween present) for <a href="https://mondfuchs.tumblr.com/">Anna</a>, whose fan art this is based on. It's definitely the fluffiest fic I've written to date, and the first Witcher fic I'm posting, so this feels like new territory all around! Big thanks to <a href="https://jlf23tumble.tumblr.com/">Jen</a> for betaing.</p>
<p>IDK which canon this fits in. Loosely set after Season 1 of the show, set during Blood of Elves, and heavily inspired by the games? Don't think about it too much, just go with it, and enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Ciri pushes the fringe out of her face for the fourth time since she started shoveling porridge into her mouth, Geralt thinks he should probably offer some help, despite her claims that she needs to learn how to put her hair in a functional bun by herself, now that she’s training to be a witcher with no lady in waiting to spend hours braiding it into intricate up-dos.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to–?”</p>
<p>“<em>No,</em>” she interrupts him in a tone precariously close to sulking, “You won’t be there to fix my hair when I’m a witcher, out on the path. I told you.”</p>
<p>Geralt huffs, holds back a smile, and goes back to eating. She’s determined, he’ll give her that. Or maybe just stubborn. A good trait to have either way. Mostly, he’s just glad she’s overcome that initial hesitation around him, started to voice her opinion. She’s clearly still steaming over it, though, scraping the spoon against her bowl with a little frown that would look out of place on her young face if it wasn’t so sincere. He decides to let her be, mostly because he has no idea what to say. His skill and his witcher senses mean he’s not bothered by his long hair during fights as long as it’s pulled back a bit, but Ciri has a hard time learning basic form even without the added difficulty. Her hair is too long for a ponytail to be effective, too thick for a simple bun to hold during training, and hair needles are out of the question.</p>
<p>Eventually, she straightens up and looks at him across the table as if she’s gearing up for a fight, then announces, “I want short hair.”</p>
<p>Huh. “Short hair?”</p>
<p>She nods, eyes blazing, and yes, there’s that determination again. Or stubbornness. “Short hair. Shorter. More like a boy.”</p>
<p>Geralt lets his eyes drift over her long blonde locks that were clearly treated with the best care and treatments a royal court could afford her whole life, in spite of her more recent adventures. He doesn’t remember ever seeing a girl with short hair. He’s seen countless variations of braids and buns keeping women’s hair in place, hats and veils and chaperons obscuring it completely, but never short hair. And then there’s Yennefer, and Triss, who wear their hair long and loose – a statement of independence, he knows, as is common among sorceresses.</p>
<p>“I don’t have time to brush it every day because I have to train. I had to smear it with dirt just to disguise myself, for weeks. It won’t stay up during training,” Ciri rattles off very reasonably, very convincingly. “And anyway, Lambert says you’re the <em>only</em> witcher with long hair, and that’s only because you’re too concerned with being pretty.”</p>
<p>At that, Geralt can’t hold back a bark of laughter. “Lambert’s just jealous because he’s going bald,” he says, grinning.</p>
<p>She lights up when she hears that, with a mischievous look that surely means she’s coming up with new insults for Lambert, and Geralt feels a fierce stab of affection for her. It’s probably best to distract her for the time being, though, because as entertaining as it is to watch her provoke Lambert, he somehow always, every time, without fail, manages to turn it around and pull her into his schemes against Geralt, instead.</p>
<p>Quickly putting on a conciliatory tone, Geralt says, “Well, maybe you’re right. I didn’t always have hair this long. Kept it a lot shorter during training.”</p>
<p>Her eyes widen. “Really?” she says and leans forward. Always so eager to eat up every detail he’s willing to offer about his own time as a novice in Kaer Morhen. It’s been an interesting few weeks since they arrived at the keep, watching Ciri walk the familiar corridors, setting into stark contrast the decades and decades of memories layered on top of it. Every day seems to be filled with both nostalgia for a simpler time and uncomfortable realizations about just how many parts of his childhood he’s unwilling to so much as hint to Ciri about, let alone put her through the same experiences – despite her being older than he and his brothers were at a time when it seemed perfectly reasonable for their masters to put them through such horrors. He worries, sometimes, about the kind of life he’s bringing her into.</p>
<p>This particular memory isn’t bad, though, so he doesn’t mind telling Ciri about it. “Yeah. Wore it to about here,” he says, gesturing vaguely around his ears. “It was curly, too. And red.”</p>
<p>“<em>Red?</em>”</p>
<p>Geralt smiles at her obvious fascination. “Until my fourteenth summer, just about. It turned white after one of the trials.” He’d rather not talk about that part, even though he knows she’s burning to ask, so he rushes to add, “Eskel always used to cut it for me. Did a better job than anyone else in the keep.”</p>
<p>She grows quiet at that, but the hint of a smile stays on her face as she averts her gaze to where she’s fiddling with the tips of her admittedly quite long hair. Then she lifts her head and fixes him with a wide-eyed look. “Do you think Eskel would cut my hair, too? Like he did yours?”</p>
<p>As it turns out, Eskel would.</p>
<p>The look on his face when she asks him to cut her hair is somewhere between stunned and adoring, and Geralt fights a losing battle to keep the warm feeling blooming in his chest at bay.</p>
<p>It’s just that – Geralt didn’t know what to expect, exactly, bringing Ciri here to Kaer Morhen. Especially not from Eskel. He hadn’t told any of his fellow witchers about her, after Cintra, after Duny and Pavetta, not until he arrived at the keep this year, long before the first snow, and had to explain why a little girl was currently standing at the gate, eyeing Eskel’s scar with apprehension. And it was Eskel’s reaction more than anything else that he feared, what with him having received that very scar from his own child of surprise, a reminder for caution that Geralt shouldn’t have needed. Not even now, so many years later.</p>
<p>It was only when he chanced a look at Eskel that he realized his fears were baseless. There was worry in Eskel’s eyes, and exasperation, but most of all that same deep understanding they’ve shared between them ever since they were snot-nosed little boys running through these same halls. <em>You brought her home</em>, is the only thing he said when Geralt mentioned it later, wrapped in darkness and Eskel’s arms, not quite asking if he’d made a mistake, he knew that he had, but not bringing it up at all would have been worse. <em>You brought her home</em>, before it was too late, before there was nothing to be done.</p>
<p>Geralt knows the one thing Eskel blames himself for, still, is not having done the same.</p>
<p>And maybe Eskel was right, that night, Geralt muses as he watches Ciri perched on a wooden stool, Eskel standing behind her with a pair of scissors that look too small in his large hands. Maybe that is what counts.</p>
<p>His hands are gently carding through blonde strands, untangling the knots with a care Geralt usually only gets to see when he’s handling smaller animals, or spinning yarn, or during those last few nights they spend together each spring, before the snow thaws and they return to the solitude of the path.</p>
<p>It’s soothing to watch them, Eskel’s movements steady and confident, Ciri swinging her feet back and forth, wisps of hair falling onto her lap and gathering on the floor. It’s been a long time since these halls have seen a child getting a haircut. The childish glee, the impatience. The same old murals on the walls that Geralt remembers spending countless hours tracing with his eyes over dinner, memorizing details now faded with time. The stories they still tell about witchers of old, and monsters, and legends. He can feel the steady draft of cold air from the door. The wooden frames and planks have not been windproof in a long while, distorted by too many summers and winters with no repairs. It wasn’t really needed, not like it used to, but maybe they should do something about it now that Ciri is here, young and fragile and so very human. He remembers little Jaro, who died of pneumonia before he ever had a chance to take the trials.</p>
<p>Being lulled into calmness by the crackling of the fire and the continuous snipping and cutting, it takes a while before Geralt pays attention to what Ciri’s hair ends up looking like. When he does, he almost chokes on his own spit.</p>
<p>It somehow looks pretty much exactly like Geralt remembers his own haircuts, except <em>terrible</em>. It’s patchy, and shaggy, and the more Eskel tries to correct it, the worse it seems to get. Watching on, Geralt’s initial dismay quickly turns into amusement because Ciri looks <em>ridiculous </em>– like a child who got hold of a pair of scissors and decided to cut their own hair, charming in its own right but so very far from the elegant hairstyle he’s used to seeing on her.</p>
<p>Geralt holds his laughter in with all his might, Eskel’s face pure trepidation. Geralt hasn’t seen him look this hesitant even while dissecting a month-old rotting drowner carcass. He can <em>smell</em> the anxiety on him, and, gods, Ciri might throw a fit later, but this is <em>priceless</em>. “Did you forget how to cut hair?”</p>
<p>Ciri almost whips her head around at that but catches herself in time. She slants her eyes toward Geralt as best as she can without dislodging Eskel’s hands. “Does it not look good?” she demands.</p>
<p>“It’s not finished yet, I can’t tell.” Geralt’s voice only comes out a little strained, he thinks, and he presses his lips together when Ciri actually does try to turn her head around as Eskel thankfully, wisely, stops her and keeps her facing forward while he takes another strand of hair between his fingers and cuts it, saving Geralt from having to keep a straight face. Which Geralt takes full advantage of. His lips stretch into a grin, his shoulders shake minutely with silent laughter, and it’s nothing that Ciri can hear, but Eskel definitely does. His mouth twitches, the beginnings of a smile, but immediately drops into a wince when he cuts another tuft of hair. Geralt holds onto his own chair for dear life.</p>
<p>Sitting next to Eskel, laughing like this, makes him feel almost giddy. It’s been so long since they simply… had fun together. It’s been a long while since they saw each other, at all – Geralt hasn’t been to Kaer Morhen for several years, and now that he’s here, there’s barely been any time between the usual work and looking after Ciri.</p>
<p>This, though, watching Eskel wreak havoc on Ciri’s hair while Geralt laughs at him from the sidelines, is the closest he’s felt to him all winter, like the weight on his shoulders got a little lighter just from knowing Eskel is right there, next to him. Sharing the burden, sharing the <em>joy</em>.</p>
<p>Eskel tries to ignore Geralt’s stifled laughter and salvage the haircut for a minute longer, but eventually he gives up and steps back.</p>
<p>Jumping up from the chair, Ciri puts her hands on her head immediately, gasping in wonder when she feels how much less hair there is. She buries her fingers in it and ruffles it, shakes her head and makes the strands whip around. It looks so much lighter now, and it might not be very pretty, or cut evenly at all, but it will serve her much better during her training, if nothing else.</p>
<p>“It’s so short!” There’s clear, radiant joy on her face, peeking up at him from under her shaggy hair.</p>
<p>Geralt and Eskel can’t do anything but stand there, in amusement and regret, respectively, as Ciri brushes the last bushels of hair off her clothes and turns to Eskel. “Thank you,” she tells him, and the sincere gratitude in her voice keeps Geralt quiet, all of a sudden choked up with something other than laughter. He can feel a helpless smile stretch across his face when Ciri shoots him a grin and says, “I have to show the others,” pausing only to fetch her vest and practice sword.</p>
<p>Eskel looks at the scissors still in his hand like they betrayed him, but Geralt can see softness on his face, too. “Guess it’s been a lot longer than I thought since I last did this.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ll say.”</p>
<p>They look over to where Ciri is bounding toward the door with a spring in her step so fast she almost collides with Vesemir, who takes one look at her in passing and lets out a grumbling laugh. “Did you let Eskel cut your hair, kid?” Without waiting for an answer other than the proud grin she shoots him, he lets her run off to find Lambert and Coën, footsteps echoing through the halls.</p>
<p>Geralt’s smile slips off his face as he registers Vesemir’s words. Wait. That means…</p>
<p>“I remember your haircuts all too well, Geralt,” Vesemir says with a hearty pat on the shoulder as he passes by, chuckling as he strolls out the back door, wholly unconcerned by the bomb he just dropped.</p>
<p>Geralt can only stare after him, offended. It’s not – Vesemir must be joking. He couldn’t possibly have looked that bad as a child. He let Eskel cut his hair for <em>years</em> because he did it best, he vividly <em>remembers</em> not wanting anybody else to do it. And yet… he swivels his head around to shoot an outraged glare at Eskel, who was apparently responsible for letting him walk around looking like a battered broomstick for most of his childhood. And who is now the one choking on laughter.</p>
<p>“I’m not even sorry,” he wheezes when he catches sight of Geralt’s face.</p>
<p>Geralt groans in agony at the thought of what the older witchers must have seen when they looked at him, but it tapers off into helpless laughter. At least the horror over Ciri’s botched haircut has left Eskel’s face, which is worth a little humiliation, Geralt thinks as he watches him bend over and clutch at his stomach. If he managed to spend years like that, unaware of what he looked like – they didn’t exactly have mirrors lying around, he recalls defensively – she’ll get through a few months of it. Or maybe they can even get Lambert to clean it up a little, he’s always been good at it. Well, Geralt’s pretty sure he is, even though he has a hard time trusting his own judgment when it comes to haircuts in this moment.</p>
<p>“Maybe it’s a good thing you grew it out, huh?” Eskel asks, with a grin so wide it pulls at his scar. Cheeky asshole. Nevermind the flutter it causes in his heart anytime he sees Eskel so carefree, which doesn’t happen nearly often enough.</p>
<p>Geralt pretends to wince. “I’m only glad I did it before Lambert came to Kaer Morhen,” he says, prompting another guffaw from Eskel as he shakes his head.</p>
<p>He can’t be mad. Of course he can’t. They’re standing here all alone in the room, in the castle they grew up in, surrounded by strands of blonde hair covering the floorboards, and Geralt can breathe again. How many times was he on the brink of death these past few years? How many times did he try to make peace with the fact that Ciri would have to get by without him? <em>Maybe things will be alright after all</em>, he thinks, as Eskel takes a step toward him, and another, until he’s close enough to reach up and bury his fingers in Geralt’s hair.</p>
<p>“I am a little bit sorry. ‘Bout Ciri’s, too,” he says ruefully.</p>
<p>Geralt scoffs, turns his head slightly to nuzzle against his wrist. “Are you kidding? She’s ecstatic,” he says, instead of <em>it didn’t matter to me what it looked like, only that it was you</em>.</p>
<p>The warmth of Eskel’s body seeps through their thin shirts when he closes the distance between them until they’re pressed together, tightens the hold he has on his hair, and pulls slightly to tilt his head up, and then they’re kissing, and for a while there’s nothing but Eskel’s scent, the sound of his heartbeat, the taste of him on Geralt’s tongue.</p>
<p>He mouths at the notch in Eskel’s lip that he never realizes he misses until he’s back with him, and Eskel retaliates by pulling Geralt’s lower lip between his own and biting down. Gods, it’s been too long. It ebbs in and out, whatever it is between them, their closeness built on a foundation steady as a rock no matter what, but seldom do they go years without this.</p>
<p>Geralt sighs contentedly as a hand strokes through the length of his hair, trying to entangle the knots with gentle insistence. He smiles. “It’s getting a bit long, isn’t it? Think I need a trim.”</p>
<p>Eskel gives him a dubious look in return. “Ask Lambert.”</p>
<p>“Mmh,” Geralt hums against Eskel’s lips and presses another soft kiss there. “But I want you to do it. I always have.”</p>
<p>“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Eskel counters, undue self-depreciation, but he says it with such fondness that Geralt lets it slide in favour of more kisses.</p>
<p>And later, when Eskel’s standing behind him, cutting the dead ends off his hair, only pausing to scratch lightly at Geralt’s scalp as if he knows exactly what Geralt’s getting out of this, well. His younger self was probably right to demand this over someone else’s hair-cutting expertise.</p>
<p>And if they can give Ciri even a fraction of the comfort and belonging he’s feeling in this moment, with Eskel at his back and his fingers in his hair, that must count for something.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic is 100% based on <a href="https://mondfuchs.tumblr.com/post/631154786709946368/">this amazing drawing</a> by Anna (mondfuchs):<br/><br/>It's so cute, I just couldn't stop thinking about it until I wrote this whole thing down.</p>
<p>Title from All Too Well by Taylor Swift (who else).</p>
<p>Find me on <a href="https://kerasines.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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